


The Laywer Man

by LeighMariana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 17:38:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeighMariana/pseuds/LeighMariana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has trained for years to achieve his dream of being a lawyer. It's the first big case in which he is leading the prosecution. The case is against, Bobby John Smith, a criminal arrested for murder, robbery, fraud and grave desecration....it should be straight forward. But when Bobby John turns out to be a face from his past, Sam's future falls apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Supernatural fic so please be gentle!
> 
> Also, not sure yet how to categorise the Dean/Cas relationship...it may change as the story develops!

“Are you ok, sir?”

“What!” Sam jumped back into the present moment with a snap. He'd been running through the case notes in his head on a near constant loop. It was his first big case as a qualified lawyer and he was determined not to slip up in any way. Whilst at Stanford, he'd been approached by several law firms as the most promising new attorney of his class. Upon his graduation and after a discussion with his long-term girlfriend Jess, he'd accepted the job at St Louis. It was an interesting town and not too far from Jess' parents or where he'd grown up. He suppressed the shudder threatening to emerge just thinking about his own childhood in his home state of Kansas. That was all in the past now. He'd broken free, trained as a lawyer and met the love of his life. As an elementary school teacher, Jess could work anywhere but Sam knew it was important for her to be near her folks, despite his own misgivings about being that close to his home town. 

At first, Sam had only assisted on the larger cases, being given the smaller charges such as theft and trespassing to handle on his own. Now, at last, the time had come for him to lead the prosecution in a murder case. He had a team of his own, people relying on him and if he was honest, he was starting to feel the pressure.

“I said, are you ok, sir?” 

Sam looked up at Ash, his quirky assistant, who was hovering next to him uncertainly. “Yes, I'm fine. Just going through the notes one last time.” Sam was proud of himself for keeping the tremor out of his voice.

Ash gave him a sympathetic smile, “Mr Winchester, you are totally ready to kick this bastard in the balls! You'll ace it, man, don't worry!”

Sam couldn't resist cracking a smile as he leant forward in his chair. “Thanks Ash, I appreciate it.”

Ash nodded. “No problem Mr Winchester. They are asking for you in five minutes.”

“Alright. I'll see you in there.”

Ash nodded once more and slipped out of the room, closing the door softly on his way out.

Today they were prosecuting one Bobby John Smith for three separate accounts of first-degree murder (two of them involving torture), a couple of second-degree murders, armed robbery, credit card and identity fraud, multiple assault charges, an uncountable amount of grave desecrations and a handful of speeding tickets. This guy was the worst possible human being, the sickest type Sam could imagine. The slimey bastard had managed to escape jail once already and wiggled his way out of police custody on too many occasions to count. He was on the FBI's most wanted list but at last he had been caught and brought into court. Sam had never actually met Bobby John before, or even seen a picture but the evidence was concrete and so his superiors felt confident in allowing Sam this case, easing him into the big time.

Sam stoop up, walked across to the door and shut his eyes, taking several deep breaths. Get a grip Winchester, you're ready for this. Jess, Ash, Becky; they all believe in you. And they're right. This is your time.

He opened his eyes, pulled open the door and stepped out into the corridor.

~~~~~~~~~ 

“All rise for the case of state verses Bobby John Smith”

Sam stood up; his breathing levelled, his heart rate slightly faster than usual but under control. This is what he had been training for.

Two guards entered the room, escorting the defendant roughly up to the stand. His hands were handcuffed but it was easy to see the strong muscles tensed beneath his shirt. Sam swept his eyes up the defendants body, reading his body language, looking for signs of weakness and fear that could be used against him, before raising his gaze to look Bobby John squarely in the eye. Sam was met with a pair of all-too-familiar shining green eyes and shit-eating grin. His mouth fell open, his heart plummeted to his shoes, his brain refusing to put together the information in front of him. It couldn't be...it was impossible...

The defendant raised his eyebrows, that cocky grin still stretched across his lips. “Heya Sammy.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally know nothing about how courts and trials work, especially under the American system so sorry about that!!

The trial wasn't going well. Sam's focus had slipped long ago and his attempt to present his case was weak, pathetic even. Ash kept glancing over at him worriedly, wondering what on earth had happened to Sam to make him lose his cool like that. Meanwhile, the defence attorney had taken to the floor and managed to produce pieces of evidence Sam had never seen and a long list of witnesses to provide reliable alibis for each crime.

“So as you can see Your Honour, there is no possible way in which the defendant could be responsible for the crimes of which he is charged.”

“Thank you, Miss Bradbury.”

  
The defence attorney nodded curtly at the judge, flashed a smile in the direction of the prisoner and returned to her seat, her red hair glinting softly under the dim electric lighting of the courtroom. A hush fell over the room, everyone awaiting the next stage of proceedings.

Sam, however, was still reeling inside. Bobby John Smith, the murderer, the vilest of men, was actually his older brother. Dean who had taken care of him whilst he was younger, protected him from their father's drunken rages, sacrificed his own food to make sure Sam had eaten sufficiently, was a monster. They hadn't seen each other in years, since Sam was twelve actually, when he'd run away from home, begging social services to take him away, refusing to even speak to Dean when he chased him across the country and tried to bring him back. They hadn't left on good terms that was for sure, but Sam had never thought his brother capable of these atrocities. And if the evidence was anything to go by, it wasn't physically possible for Dean to have done so either. It just didn't make sense, this case was supposed to be watertight.

“The jury will now adjourn to make a decision.” The judge stood up, the rest of the room following in suit.

Sam couldn't get out of the courtroom and into the fresh air fast enough. He took deep, shuddering breaths, allowing the cold air to fill his lungs to their maximum capacity.

After a few minutes Ash appeared at his side. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Sam mumbled.

“Well something sure did. One minute you were all professional boss man and the next, you looked white a sheet. I know Bobby John tried to get rise out of you but you've never been one to let something like that throw you off your game.”

“I know....I guess I just froze,” Sam used the oldest lie in the book and hoped he looked frazzled enough to pull it off. It seemed to work though as Ash nodded understandingly and moved the conversation along.

“I don't understand it, Sir, this was supposed to be easy, a sure thing”

Sam signed wearily, running his hand through his long hair. “Yeah well, apparently Miss Bradbury disagreed.”

“You never know, you might have swung it...” Ash supplied doubtfully.

Sam let out a tired laugh, void of any real humour. “No, we both know what's going to happen. I'm just not looking forward to when Zachariah finds out about this. I doubt he'll let me anywhere near a big case ever again. It's not like he needed another reason to hate me.”

Before Ash could reply, a thin, straggly man in an oversized suit came dashing out onto the terrace, clutching a handful of documents and wheezing from the exertion he'd spent running up the stairs.

“The jury....have made...their...decision,” he huffed out between gasps, and then promptly disappeared back the way he had come.

“Uh...that's not good.” Ash glanced sideways at Sam.

There was only one reason the jury would decide so quickly. They were unanimous.

“No,” Sam agreed, “it's really not.”


	3. Chapter 3

The drive back to the office was long and quiet. Clearly Ash didn't really know what to say and to be honest, Sam appreciated the silence. Sure it was a little uncomfortable but it beat analysing in detail what Sam was pretty sure was one of the worst days of his life. He'd been forced to confront the life he left behind, found out his brother was an FBI wanted criminal and been totally humiliated as professional. So yeah...not a great day.

As he entered the building, a small woman in bookish clothes ran over to him, sympathy written all over her face.

“Hey, Becky,” Sam sighed tiredly.

“Sam! Oh my goodness! Are you ok? I'm sure you are! You are far too amazing to let this affect you. It must have been a set up. No way could you have failed otherwise. That Bobby John Smith probably threatened the jury or something.” Sam felt, as always, slight awe beneath his exasperation, that anyone was able to speak so rapidly without once pausing to draw breath.

“It wasn't like that...” Sam began to respond but seeing the indignation on her face, he hurriedly added “but thanks Becky, I appreciate the support.”

Her answering smile was so wide that it took over her entire face. It didn't take much of a response from him to make Becky happy, she was convinced they were soul mates or something. He'd tried turning her down gently a few times, mentioning Jess as often as possible, but it just went straight over her head, having convinced herself that Jess was nothing more than a fling. He'd found it was best to just be polite. Besides, he didn't want to actually upset her. They had to work together everyday.

“Oh, Zachariah wants to see you in his office,” she said, grimacing in sympathy, before collecting her papers and heading out of the office.

“Good luck, man” Ash said clapping him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks. I have a feeling I'm gonna need it.”

As Sam headed up to the boss' office, nerves started churning his stomach again. He knew Zachariah was going to be pissed. And he'd never been a massive fan of Sam from the start. In fact it was his partner, Joshua, who had offered Sam the job. Joshua and Zachariah had never got on, Zachariah refusing to accept Joshua as anything but a rival, causing him to hate Sam just because Joshua liked him.

He look a breath and knocked sharply on the door.

“Come in, Mr Winchester.”

As he opened the heavy, wooden door and stepped cautiously into the room, he noted that his boss was standing by the window, looking out over the city. Zachariah's stout figure blocking light from the skyscrapers surrounding the building.

“Do you know how many families live in this city? Or this country even?” he said evenly, without turning around.

“Um...a lot?” Sam replied, his uncertainty clear in his voice.

Still silhouetted against the illuminated skyline, Zachariah turned around. “A lot? Yes Mr Winchester, a lot. And do you know how many of them have had their lives torn apart by the likes of Bobby John Smith?”

This calm act was really starting to freak Sam out. “Would that also be, like, a lot?”

“A significant percentage, yes. And do you know what they were relying on, in order to move on with their broken lives? You. You were responsible for getting them a little justice. Some prison time at least, maybe even the injection, but for him to walk away without even a fine....” he laughed, the harsh sound making Sam jump a little. “What the hell happened Winchester?” he shouted, the cool finally slipping away.

“Um, there was new evidence,” Sam supplied.

“So you deal with it. Do they not teach you anything these days?” Zachariah's face was beginning to get redder as he let his anger out. “I warned Joshua that you were ill suited to this case, this profession even, but he vouched for you.”

“I'm sorry, I really am. But I'm not the first to lawyer to lose a case.” Sam struggled to keep his sudden rush of anger at bay, “It's not like you or Joshua have a 100% success record.”

Long story, short, this was not the best way to respond to Zachariah. Hindsight is a marvellous thing Sam admitted to himself as he trudged back towards his car carrying a cardboard box full of the possessions which adorned his desk. “Former” desk he reminded himself forlornly. Jess would understand though right? And there were plenty of other firms he could apply to. Granted he would be slightly less desirable after such a high profile loss but somewhere would offer him a place surely. And moving city would be a hassle, and upsetting for Jess but it was perfectly doable. They could get past this. Maybe they should go to Chicago...

Sam was so preoccupied in his own head, he didn't notice the presence behind him until it was too late. He started to turn but rough sack cloth closed suddenly over his face, blinding him. Strong arms forced his own behind him in a vice like grip, preventing him from getting away and causing him to drop the box. He heard the snow globe Jess gave him for Christmas the first year they were together, shatter into a thousand pieces. A sharp sting in his arm made him flinch in surprise and then...nothing. Just black.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - my laptop had a meltdown! 
> 
> I am moving back to uni tomorrow and am not sure what the internet will be like in my next house, but I shall try to get the next chapter up before too long :)

Scuffling noises...hushed voices...stabbing pain in his arm...mother of all headaches...body aching like he'd been slammed into a brick wall...

“Shouldn't he be awake by now?” a low voice was saying anxiously.

A low chuckle. “Have you seen the size of him? I had to up the dose to give you the opportunity to get him in the trunk.”

“Benny, I swear if he doesn't wake up...”

“Relax brother”, the other voice interrupted, the cajun accent distinctive even in Sam's addled state, “he's gonna be just fine.”

Darkness consumed Sam once more.

~~~

The next time Sam came round, he was able to open his eyes. He found himself upright on a hard chair, arms behind his back, still shrouded in black. Sam's brain took a few seconds to kick in. He must still have the sack cloth over his head. It took a further few seconds to realise the room was quiet, beyond his own breathing and an ancient extractor fan's ragged, gentle rumble, complete silence. 

Where the hell was he? An old warehouse perhaps judging by the fan and slightly musty smell. Though that could be from the sack, he conceded. 

Experimentally, Sam raised his head slowly and turned his head from side to side. A slight ache as one would expect after a day of strenuous activity but nothing severe or permanent as far as he could tell. Unless he'd been anaesthetised so much he couldn't feel the removal of a limb or organ. Sam's blood ran cold as he considered the option, the panic causing him to strain his body against the restraints he hadn't yet realised were shackling his limbs. Good. He could feel his legs and wrists and he was unlikely to be missing a kidney if he hadn't been lain back on an operating table. Though God only knows what process crazy, kidnapping psychopaths undertake when removing bodily parts. 

Get a grip, Sam, he told himself, squashing any thoughts along that line in order to keep panic from over throwing him. C'mon. You're a lawyer so think rationally.

So who would want to kidnap him? He didn't have any enemies, bar Zachariah and seeing as the dick had already fired him, it would seem slight overkill to hurriedly organise a kidnapping. Not that Sam didn't think Zachariah was capable of trying to screw Sam's life up as much as possible but it just didn't make sense. So who did that leave? Maybe Jess found out about the trial and being fired and was so pissed off, she got him captured. Sam almost let the wry smile that was threatening to creep over his lips to manifest, at the suggestion Jess could ever be responsible for this. Wait. The trial! 

No please, thought Sam desperately. Not him please.

If you'd asked Sam ten years ago if his own brother would have organised his kidnapping, he would have laughed in your face and told you to lay off the cheap booze. Scratch that, if you'd asked him last week then his response would have been the same. But now, it seemed his brother was a murderer, torturer, a thief, amongst other unlawful occupations.

The sound of voices pulled Sam out of his horrifying head space. They were getting louder, getting nearer Sam assumed. A deep belly laugh and a collection of chuckles and giggles took Sam by surprise. There were at least four individuals, one of them was probably female.

“Nice try, Cas” the woman's voice rang clear. “But Spider Man wasn't actually real.” Something about her voice seemed familiar to Sam but he couldn't quite put his finger on why that was.

“It's very confusing” a gravelly and sheepish voice replied, “some myths are based on reality and others are simply used to illustrate part of the human psyche. There's no clear guidelines on what exists and what doesn't.”

“Hey, you got us there” came the reply from right near Sam. Couldn't be more than about fifteen feet away now. The deep cajun accent sounded familiar from when Sam had been drifting in and out of consciousness. “You ready, brother?” The question clearly aimed at another individual in the group.

“Yep” came a gruff response. Before Sam could process anything, the sack cloth was whipped from over his head and he found himself blinking at five figures in front of him. They were slightly out of focus from account of being kept in the dark for so long before sudden exposure to bright light. As the faces sharpened, one in particular stuck out. Green eyes, slight smirk. And for the second time that day:

“Heya Sammy.”


End file.
